


My Brother's Stalker

by katya1828



Series: Falling Together [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Big Brother Amenadiel (Lucifer TV), Blood and Violence, Brother Feels, Brother/Brother Incest, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Feels, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mugging, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Lucifer, Pre-Canon, Protective Amenadiel (Lucifer TV), Rough Sex, Slash, Spitroasting, Surprise Kissing, Threesome - M/M/M, Vulnerable Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), but he's denying everything, lucifer needs his big brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katya1828/pseuds/katya1828
Summary: Set soon after Lucifer arrives in LA and inspired by the events of series 3, episode 11, “City of Angels?” (basically, pre-main canon with small spoiler alerts for that ep.)When Lucifer is having a sex party and asks Amenadiel to leave the room, Amenadiel thinks a little too hard about why he’s been asked to go… and makes the mistake of letting Lucifer know he’s hurt.Lucifer, meanwhile, decides his brother has developed a weird and possibly sexual obsession with him, and starts prodding their inner demons a little too hard.TRIGGER WARNING FOR CHAPTER THREE: I haven't put a non-con warning on this, because it doesn't contain non-con as such. However, a character (guess who?) deliberately puts himself in a position where it looks like he might be sexually assaulted, so please avoid if this is not right for you.
Relationships: Amenadiel & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Amenadiel/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Original Male Character(s), Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Falling Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624285
Comments: 24
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I’ve got four EDIT: FIVE chapters sketched out so far. Basically, I’ve found it difficult getting these two to get it on without pushing too OCC (not that I care overly much, this is fanfic and my fun little fantasy, but I do like to try…) 
> 
> Self-betad, so my sincere apologies for typos. I will update within the week, hopefully.

Lucifer was about to pluck a glacé cherry from between some random brunette’s cleavage—using his lips—when the most annoying thing possible happened.

Again.

The brunette and her boobs froze in the middle of a lovely wobbly giggle. The loud beat of the music went dead. All the wonderful life, lust, and sin in the bar around him transformed into a picturesque bunch of scantily clad statues.

Lucifer sighed loudly. He didn’t even bother to look up, fixing on the pleasant, if now freaky, view of the motionless boobs. “Amenadiel, it’s been two weeks. Two bloody weeks! We made a deal. I helped you find your pretty necklace. You let me stay here, and I believe the terms were open ended. So, _please_ —”

At the touch of his brother’s hand on his shoulder, Lucifer jerked away. He shot Amenadiel, who was clad in his stupid dress as always, a sharp glare, then squeezed his way between the motionless punters to the bar. Lucifer poured himself a very large whisky.

Amenadiel followed him, puppy-like. “Luci, Father isn’t pleased about this.”

“Quelle surprise,” bitched Lucifer, and downed his drink. He poured another one. Amenadiel folded his arms in a fashion that emphasized his pumped biceps while conjuring his usual air of self-importance. “Did you really wing it all the way from the Silver City just to tell me that?”

“No.”

“Oh goodie. You’ve come to visit my new club then.” Lucifer grinned, gesturing around proudly. “Gorgeous, isn’t it. Within these walls, all the more tedious laws of humanity simply don’t apply. You know, the dreary ones concerning narcotics, licencing hours, lewd behaviour, apples—and all the rest of the shit Dad enforced to ruin the Garden of Eden.”

“I have not come to visit your den of iniquity,” said Amenadiel, deadpan.

“How disappointing.” Lucife smirked. “But iniquity is the only meal on the menu for me tonight, and I have no intention of leaving my new “den,” so you might as well flap right off again. Bye!”

Lucifer swivelled his bar stool about, turning a cold shoulder to his brother. He was just reaching for the whisky bottle again, when Amenadiel grabbed his arm, spinning him back around. When Lucifer tried to pull away, Amenadiel’s grip turned vice-like.

Lucifer imbued his snarl with venom: “What? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“We need to talk.” Amenadiel’s words and looks were loaded with a gravity that seemed weighty even for him. For a moment, Lucifer was alarmed. He’d had a lot of fun these last few weeks, and Dad… well, it was inevitable Dad was going to send Amenadiel to drag him home sooner or later, but he’d very much hoped for “later.”

“About what?” Lucifer sounded as weary and resigned as he suddenly felt. Still, Amenadiel released his too-tight grip on him. He allowed Lucifer to refill his drink before touching Lucifer’s shoulder, gently this time, prompting Lucifer to flinch away before finally meeting Amenadiel’s gaze.

“Something’s been bothering me,” said Amenadiel. “The other week… when I arrived, you were having sex with those humans. Do you recall?”

Lucifer sniggered. “I most certainly do. Ah, Jess I think one of them was called. Oh, and there was a Gail—she certainly _blew_ me like a Gale. Hmmm, and there was that lovely young man, what was he called? Steven… Sven? He was a real expert on, uh… " Lucifer found he couldn’t quite articulate the words “anal pleasure” let alone “prostate stimulation” to his eldest most sanctimonious brother.

Oh, actually, yes he could. Lucifer smiled sweetly. “Stefan was a real expert on anal pleasure and prostate stimulation. I almost leaned something new. _Almost._ ”

Amenadiel stared blankly at Lucifer, as if he hadn’t heard. Thus, Amenadiel all but floored Lucifer with his next verbal blow: “Luci, after I’d been shot, you inferred that I was removing my clothes because I wanted to join you… in your, er, orgy. Why did you ask me to go into the other room?”

Lucifer gave Amenadiel a hard stare. That suggestion had been a joke! Or, if by the remotest possibility, Amenadiel had fancied getting jiggy one of the girls—or boys—involved, Lucifer _would_ have wanted him to leave the room. He’d be a major buzzkill. Hadn’t thickheaded Amenadiel understood? Unless… unless his brother, in some small way, _had_ actually wanted to join in. To have sex with _him_? Or perhaps to watch?

“I think,” he said slowly, “that you should let these poor humans get on with enjoying their evening. We should continue this conversation, if you insist on pursuing it, in my penthouse.”

Amenadiel shrugged, the music blared back on, and the party raged as if nothing had happened. Apart from one very confused brunette, who found herself standing alone in the middle of the throng with a glacé cherry wedged between her cleavage.

***

In the elevator, Lucifer rested his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. He didn’t only wish to avoid Amenadiel’s doleful gaze. What his brother had said was a genuine mindfuck, which was not the kind of fuck Lucifer had been looking forward to that evening.

Yet any notion that Amenadiel had wanted to join in Lucifer’s sex party was preposterous. Amenadiel had doubtless come all this way to lecture him about the consequences of sex with humans. Again.

In the penthouse, Lucifer stripped off his jacket, grabbed another drink, and then threw himself back into a comfortable chair. He left Amenadiel hanging awkwardly.

“Talk then,” commanded Lucifer at length. “Let’s get the sermon over with.”

Amenadiel sighed and sunk down on the couch opposite. “I didn’t come here to lecture you, Luci. It’s just that… I suppose, in an odd way, what you said… wounded me.”

Lucifer snorted, incredulous. “You were upset that I didn’t want you to join my orgy? That is truly precious, brother.” Incredulity burgeoned towards… bloody hell, this was hilarious! His brother hadn’t said anything this interesting in several millennia, or possibly ever. “I thought you didn’t believe in mixing divinity with humanity? Especially _your_ chastely-guarded divinity.”

“I don’t.” Amenadiel fixed on his hands, tented neatly in his lap. “Naturally, I didn’t want to join in. But maybe I figured… Oh, I don’t know. You and I, we used to be so close, long ago. But now… now… every time I touch you, it is with violence, and you do the same to me.”

“Oh, and I’m so terribly sorry about _that_. Obviously, I enjoy you slapping me around and trying to haul my arse back to hell each time we meet. I also apologise for simply defending myself.”

“Taking you back to hell is father’s will. We can’t dance around it forever.”

“We can try.”

“ _You_ can try.”

Lucifer leaned forward in his chair, refusing to analyse quite _why_ his heartbeat was accelerating, his palms slightly sweaty. He regarded Amenadiel with as slow and casual an air as he could muster. His brother was a good-looking man. Not as handsome as Lucifer, naturally, and not, as a rule, Lucifer’s type for a one-night stand…

Lucifer blinked hard. No, even _he_ wasn’t going to let this evening end _that_ way.

Or was he?

Lucifer summoned his most enchanting smile. “Let’s get back to the interesting part. How, exactly, _would_ you like to touch me?”

“Luci, please, don’t let’s turn this into something dirty.”

“Dad forbid! You can't think me capable of tarnishing your tediously spotless self-image.” Lucifer indeed hadn't dreamed of it. Until a few moments ago, at any rate. Avoiding any fast, alarming movements, he reached out and placed a hand on Amenadiel’s knee. And why shouldn’t he? The bastard was always trying to touch _him_.

“Tell me brother, would you like to embrace me?" asked Lucifer. "Like we used to in the old days.”

Amenadiel’s dark eyes were pools of nauseating earnestness—were they glistening with tears or was it just the reflection of the lambent lights of the penthouse? Their gazes locked. For the briefest of moment, the ghost of some long-forgotten affection haunted Lucifer, and nearly choked him.

Losing sight of his clear motive, Lucifer jumped up, dragged Amenadiel to his feet, and embraced him. Amenadiel’s arms enfolded tight around Lucifer, warm and safe and comforting and replete with memories so sweet and so painful that Lucifer couldn’t contain a gasp, then a sob. He buried his face in Amenadiel’s shoulder, his mind screaming, _How… how_? How could _this_ happen? What the bloody hell _was_ happening?

Amenadiel rubbed his back in soothing circles, whispering “Shhhhh,” into Lucifer’s ear. Lucifer’s knees went weak. He tried to smother his tears against Amenadiel’s shoulder, burying himself deeper, but he failed. His sobs grew convulsive, while Amenadiel must have more-or-less been supporting all his weight, without any effort at all. Amenadiel petted the back of Lucifer’s hair, as Lucifer strove to rein in his unwanted emotions. “Shhh,” repeated Amenadiel, and it sounded so natural, so instinctive and familial. “Shhh.”

Had Amenadiel known this would happen? Because Lucifer hadn’t intended or anticipated _this_. The memories that being held like this unleashed… They hurt too much, so he refused them. Yet he couldn’t kill them as he wished. Once he’d had family. A family that cared, that touched him with true affection rather than raw, naked lust. A family who’d turned on him cruelly, whether he’d deserved it or not; who withdrew their oh-so-conditional love and replaced it with endless pain.

He couldn’t go there. What was he letting Amenadiel do to him, making him weep? Was this some kind of trick, to lull him into a false sense of security, so Amenadiel could take him down with an easy knock-out blow, throw him over one shoulder, and deliver him back where he belonged? Back to hell…

 _Focus, Lucifer, focus_.

He needed to get back to the script he’d swiftly formulated a few minutes past. Before his complete git of a brother showed him the first true affection he’d known in many thousand years.

Lucifer swallowed hard, and balled a fist in the back of Amenadiel’s gown. He lifted his face from Amenadiel’s shoulder then used his other hand to cup his brother’s neck. He urged Amenadiel forward to meet his proffered kiss.

As their lips clashed, Amenadiel emitted a perplexed grunt. He shifted to pry Lucifer away, but Lucifer stood his ground, mashing their mouths closer together. He took advantage of Amenadiel’s next attempt to articulate protest by thrusting his tongue inside Amenadiel’s mouth. Lucifer distracted himself from the taste of his own tears by kissing his brother as deeply and dirtily as possible, then revelling in the realization that Amenadiel wasn’t resisting that hard. Briefly, Amenadiel’s tongue moved slickly and sweetly against his.

_So, the holier-than-though Archangel Amenadiel is allowing himself to be kissed by his loser, evil, little brother!_

Time to go in for the kill.

Lucifer snaked his hand toward Amenadiel’s crotch, palming the outline of… bloody hell! His well-hung brother was most definitely at half-mast, which was so astonishing that Lucifer let his guard drop, breaking the kiss to gasp for air. Next thing he knew, he was being roughly shoved backward, landing with a thud on his sofa.

“What was _that_ about?” bellowed Amenadiel, looming over him.

“I could well ask you the same thing, brother.” Lucifer licked his moist and slightly swollen lips in a lascivious fashion, savouring the pure-as-mineral-water taste of his angelic sibling. “I kissed you to annoy you. I wasn’t expecting such a… warm welcome. I told you there was _nothing_ I couldn’t turn on.” Amenadiel pressed his lips into a thin line and clenched his fists. “Oh dear, I really _have_ got you hot and bothered. We’re back to the usual rough foreplay next, I suppose.”

Amenadiel shook his head, his fists relaxing. “You really are despicable, Luci. For a moment there, I thought… ”

“You _thought_ what?” Lucifer snapped, leaping up and getting right in his brother’s face. “You thought I’d missed your brotherly affection? That you could cuddle me back to hell? That you could trick me into thinking you cared? Bullshit! Though, credit where it’s due, even _I_ didn’t realize you were quite so desperate to get laid. I’m still up for it, by the way. How shall we go about it? I could treat you to some of the tricks I got up to with Sven, though I’m imagining your ego will only let you top. Just a few missionary style thrusts and grunts and you’ll be spent before I even bite the pillow, eh?”

Amenadiel had clenched his fists again, and Lucifer braced himself for the blow, and then to resist mightily. A good fight with them both in this mood really might have ended in angry, fighty sex, and Lucifer hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was still up for it. It would be much better than…

…what happened next.

Amenadiel backed off, unleashed his silver-grey wings, and with the usual whoosh of feathers, he set off back to the heavens. Leaving Lucifer to berate himself over the matter he’d just sobbed in his brothers arms for no apparent reason. Without even getting the bastard to come crashing down to his own level by fucking him, or through them beating each other senseless.

But who cared about that minor slip? He was still on earth, not back in hell, and his stupid idiot brother had left him alone.

Lucifer wandered toward his bathroom to reapply his eyeline before returning to the club. He casually wondered if he’d annoyed Amenadiel so much he wouldn’t deign to show his smug, superior visage again for a good few decades.

And that was a happy thought, Lucifer told himself. Despite that sickening hollow feeling that the night’s encounter had left in his chest.

Really, it was fine how he’d just ended things with Ameniadel. It was. It really, really _was_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer tries to lure Amenadiel out of the shadows... in a very Lucifer fashion that involves a lot of sex.
> 
> Happy New Year everyone - thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy :)

Amenadiel returned less than two weeks later. Apart from he didn’t. Not exactly.

Time didn't stop. There were no lectures, macho posturing nor punch-ups, threatened or otherwise. The barista was handing over Lucifer’s first espresso of the day when Lucifer heard, above the bustle of the coffee bar, the buzz of celestial wings. He whirled about, slopping hot coffee across the back of his hand. His jumpiness distracted the blonde girl behind him from her shameless ogling of his butt.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He checked the store and the street beyond the window for any celestial presence. Falling short, and hoping he’d been mistaken, he distracted himself by checking out the hot, intellectual-looking blonde, who was now ordering her coffee. “I hope I didn’t harm you with my carelessness?”

“I’m fine," she said, bashful.

“Please, let me get your coffee anyway.” He summoned his most captivating smile.

“You’re too kind, I really couldn’t—”

“You really could. It’s the least I can do after scalding you half to death. Besides, you look ravishing for somebody out at this ridiculously early hour of the morning.”

He’d already handed the cash over to the barista, so the deed was done. She giggled and blushed, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Morning? But it’s 2.57pm—”

Lucifer entertained himself with attempts to lure the woman away from that worse-than-hell human pastime known as “office work” and back for some fun-time at his penthouse. But somehow, someway, he perceived he wasn’t alone with her. Amenadiel was hovering nearby, watching him. He could feel his brother’s gaze impaling him. It felt as if each hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and put him wildly off his game.

Leaving the coffee bar—with the woman’s number but not the woman—Lucifer glared about himself, in the mood for a proper brawl. “Too scared to show your smug face?” he muttered. “And what’s happened to your favourite time-meddling trick? Can’t keep it up? Or are you having too much fun keeping something _else_ up while you’re watching me?” Even as Lucifer spoke, wings softly whirred, and what he decided to label as the “creepy presence” vanished.

Lucifer sensed his brother’s nearness several times over the next few days. The following week, Amenadiel’s fifth “creepy presence” proved the most pleasing yet. Lucifer was at the tailors, being fitted for a new suit, when the faintest _hush_ of angel wings betrayed his brother’s unseen attendance. He sniggered. Amenadiel was as subtle as a jelly party at Lux, and less than half as sophisticated.

As the tailor, on his knees, looped the tape-measure about Lucifer’s thigh, Lucifer pitched Amenadiel a gleeful prayer: _Jealous of another man touching me? Sure you don't want to pop out, say hi, and check my inner leg measurements?_

Amenadiel’s presence evaporated before Lucifer could finish the prayer. This time, however, Lucifer refused to feel unsettled. The notion of Amenadiel stalking him was hilarious, especially given the deliciously sinful elements of their previous encounter. Having his brother about, of course, always held risks, but provoking Amenadiel into showing his sanctimonious face, let alone into admitting he fancied Lucifer, was too entertaining a game to refuse to play.

Over a cigarette back in his penthouse, Lucifer considered his next move. Since the fateful “hug”, Amenadiel had shown himself—or rather, _not_ shown himself—in innocuous public places. He’d not bothered Lucifer at Lux or in the boudoir. The incident at the tailor’s had been the closest his brother had come to catching him at anything naughty or intimate.

So be it. Lucifer decided it was time for an orgy—one that would last a month or so, if needs must. If Amenadiel wanted to spy on him, he would have to endure the sight of Lucifer enjoying endless, wanton pleasure, and either muster the balls to show himself, “stoop” to Lucifer’s level, or bugger off back to the Silver City and stay put.

For a fortnight, Lucifer had constant sex. He methodically worked his way through a smorgasbord of positions and kinks, with the full rainbow spectrum of genders. Amenadiel remained frustratingly absent. Even procuring several suitably bulky Amenadiel lookalikes—and yelling silently through the ether that they were all a lot sexier than the angelic original—didn’t draw his brother to watch the party, let alone show himself.

On the fifteenth night, Lucifer tired of the whole affair. That horrible emptiness that he’d experienced when Amenadiel had last fled the penthouse returned to dog him. He drank more than usual even for him, satisfied half-a-dozen Britneys, and then popped the very willing cherry of some random guy with a crate of vodka for Lux, who’d simply picked the wrong floor for his delivery. In an attempt to stoke his enthusiasm again, Lucifer lured a couple of the more convincing, gym-addict Amenadiel lookalikes, Craig and Reese, out onto his balcony.

Lucifer initiated the encounter with energetic, sloppy kisses, which were enthusiastically reciprocated with teeth and tongues, and increasingly rough handling. Lucifer demanded to be naked, and hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothing were ripped off him and tossed aside, his pants landing on the sidewalk several hundred feet below. A naked Lucifer found himself sandwiched between his two lovers, his butt pressed back against Reese’s erection. He grasped Craig’s length and squeezed it with a feral growl. “I hope you’re hungry. Because I relish a good spit-roasting. No mollycoddling—I want this to _hurt_. _”_

Lucifer knew they couldn’t cause him pain. But if the poor little mortals tried their bestest, they might at least make him feel enough to forget Amenadiel’s continued failure to _stoop_ , which was frustrating him more every day. He dropped gracefully to his knees, taking the slightly pained-looking Craig in his mouth, lapping and sucking and then drawing the man deep.

He worked the blowjob with all his centuries of skill, knowing how fabulous he looked on his knees, cheeks hollowed and brow furrowed with the effort of sucking, plying pleasure with hands, tongue and lips. His efforts failed to subdue his qualms over _why_ he wanted to do this here, now, naked under the heavens, with _these_ particular men… about why he was doing this at all. Apart from the usual reason—the fabulous sex, of course. That was all that mattered, and he was bloody well going to enjoy it. Reese clasped his hips and lifted him from behind, smoothly manipulating him onto his hands and knees. Craig adjusted in synch, also kneeling, so as not to interrupt the deft work Lucifer was doing with his mouth.

Reese nudged at Lucifer’s entrance for a scant moment, lining up before entering him forcefully. Lucifer was braced, and had even bothered to self-lube, but the jolt forced him forward, so Craig’s cock struck the back of his throat. He fought a gag reflex, even as he revelled in the stretch and burn, the almost-painful splitting sensation of being impaled without any kind of foreplay. Then his team started to move, fucking Lucifer violently from both ends. Both men were experienced, and their power matched their impressive physiques. They didn’t quite thrust in unison, but they plunged deep, like an off-kilter pair of pistons. The uncomfortable pummelling of Lucifer’s throat by Craig counteracted the blissful strikes on his prostate from Reese.

The dissonant onslaught from both ends—plus the difficulty of breathing while performing a now half-hearted attempt to deep-throat—ought to have distracted Lucifer from his evening’s original purpose. But not quite. Craig’s cock seemed to stretch Lucifer’s mouth ever-wider, and he found himself casually wondering if his brother would feel this big. Well, of course, he would! Amenadiel was an archangel. And how much more satisfied would Lucifer be if Amenadiel took Reese’s place…

_Agh… no… don’t let the bastard ruin this…_

Lucifer willed himself toward surrender, letting the sensations overwhelm him. His body was being so vigorously used that he couldn’t be bothered to give anymore, and he resigned himself happily to receive. Given his plea for pain, the abuse of his holes was appropriately ruthless. The duel impact jarred his neck and spine, while fingers twisted and yanked at his hair, gouged into his hips and pawed about his slender waist. Still, at length, Reese found the chivalry to reach for Lucifer’s neglected erection, fisting it in tandem with his ever-accelerating thrusts. Lucifer’s bones rattled beneath the onslaught, his climax mounted, and the world, the heavens, his very sense of being started to fall away. This was going to be goooood….

And then bloody _Amenadiel_ came.

The hum of wings was faint, but for Lucifer, it cut like a blaring trumpet through his lovers’ cries of pleasure and his own stifled moans. A cold current of air switched like a whip across his back, and he understood that Amenadiel was watching.

Lucifer had won! Amenadiel was witnessing him being double-teamed by two strange humans, who in his heart, were mere shadows of his angel of a brother. But they _looked_ like Amenadiel… a bit. Amenadiel had to be jealous, watching Lucifer being fucked like this… degraded… treated like the slut he was.

_Ha! Are you getting off on this? I bet you are! Why else are you here? Who’s the fallen angel now?_

Amenadiel didn’t answer. Suddenly feeling rather less turned on, Lucifer answered himself.

_Still me._

With another muffled _whoosh,_ Amenadiel left, and Lucifer could no longer even get off on the fabulous dirty kink of having his elder brother watch him. Instead, he felt… cheap… twisted… and, oddly given the circumstances of his stuffed orifices, empty again. Reese stroked him, fingers skittering sensuously and comfortingly along his flank. Lucifer juddered, as if slashed by a demon blade.

His frustration didn’t kill his arousal stone-dead amid such gloriously intense sensation, but it diminished the endgame. His lovers’ peaked, almost as one. Lucifer then went through the motions, enduring their shudders of pleasure, duly swallowing for Craig, then clenching his butt like a vise around Reese’s softening cock, making the guy yelp. Lucifer made a habit of the latter: when the devil had been thoroughly violated, he liked to remind his users—and maybe himself—who was boss. Also, he needed to punish the neglectful git for not noticing Lucifer never actually climaxed.

After he’d dismissed his company, Lucifer still couldn’t gain any sense of control; his thoughts were all over the place and his nerves were shot. He sank naked to the balcony floor, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He stared up at the stars, conjuring anger, yet shivering with cold. Yes, definitely just cold, not frustration or sorrow. Amenadiel wasn’t worth it.

Why was he punishing himself anyhow? He’d won! His brother had unquestionably been perving over him. Indeed, he had to be tracing Lucifer’s every move from the heavens to know when Lucifer had been doing the dirty with his looky-likeys and come flapping down for a closer peek. Lucifer had _proved_ his brother was obsessed with him in a less than holier-than-thou fashion, and yet Amenadiel _still_ ruined everything by buggering off before Lucifer could taunt him about it.

Shakily, he reached for his cigarette packet, carelessly discarded when his clothes had been ripped off, found a light and began to smoke. It didn’t calm him. He loathed Amenadiel more than ever, which was all the more reason he had to win this war, and lure Amenadiel into sin. Although the fun sort of sin simply wasn’t working. He’d not even drawn the bastard out, let alone got Amenadiel to touch him again.

So be it. If Lucifer’s favourite contact sport—sex—had failed, then he’d have to play this Amenadiel’s way.

And his warrior brother had always favoured violence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer takes drastic measures to get Amenadiel's attention. This chapter is pretty much pure whump (well, the whole fic is really... I probably make Lucifer a bit more physically whumpable than canon, but heh, I'm twisted like that. I'm not apologizing for Lucifer's inner self-whump, though...)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: I haven't put a non-con warning on this, because it doesn't contain non-con as such. However, a character (guess who?) deliberately puts himself in a position where it looks like he might be sexually assaulted, so please avoid if this is not right for you.
> 
> For those who wish to proceed, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy :) Self-betad, as usual, so sorry for any typos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the trigger warning in the chapter summary - thanks!

Lucifer adjusted the cuffs of his shiny golden Prada suit, ensuring his $300,000 Rolex Daytona watch glinted under the streetlight. He passed into a dimly lit alley, a spring in his step.

The gang of hooded men had followed him for at least two blocks, since his Uber had dropped him off amid these derelict warehouses and insalubrious drug dens. The driver had sped off with a screech of spinning wheels, before Lucifer could hand him a generous tip. Now, Lucifer slackened his pace, humming cheerily to himself, and hoping his fate tonight would live up to his horrific expectations.

He’d been mugged twelve times in the last fortnight. He’d been shot to death twice, received multiple stab wounds, and he’d not a single rib that hadn’t been fractured, snapped or all-but-grinded to dust before neatly re-knitting as new. Lucifer had re-stocked daily with watches, rings and other shiny paraphernalia to be robbed of each night—nothing of personal value to Lucifer, of course, but each piece worth a fortune. Every high-class jeweller within the city limits had repaid all their favours to Lucifer, and enjoyed record takings to boot.

But Amenadiel hadn’t showed. Not once. Even when Lucifer had been so riddled with lead slugs it’d taken a full thirty seconds to revert from being sort-of-dead. Now he was pulling out the big guns.

He’d heard unspeakable things about the gang entering the alley behind him, their reputation for brutality unrivalled. He whirled about, casually musing how handsome he must look, artfully lit within a hazy ring of lamplight, like the anti-hero in a 1940s crime movie.

“Hello notorious drug gang!” He waved his custom-made diamond-encrusted timepiece at them, deliberately turning the display into a faintly obscene gesture. “Think of all the yummy powdery goodness you can buy with this bad boy.”

The gang muttered among themselves. Fortunately, the sentiment “He’s fucking insane,” won out over the more cautious suspicion that Lucifer was a cop and this was some kind of trap. They advanced toward him.

“That’s it, lads. Take—ow!— _whatever_ you fancy.”

Somebody had ripped the watch off Lucifer’s wrist seconds after he’d let himself be shoved to the ground. Several steel-toe-capped boots set about caving in his ribs—again—but as Lucifer writhed and choked, he also faintly panicked. Surely they wouldn’t _just_ take the watch? Maybe these guys were not the evil sexual predators he’d been informed they were, because this suit was worth a fair bob, let alone the priceless celestial flesh beneath. Being mugged was proven _not_ to lure Amenadiel out, and being ignored by his brother was getting boring. Being sexually molested, on the other hand… if Amenadiel was still watching, surely this would hook him.

Ah, fortunately, they were onto it. A big, mean-looking bloke hauled him into a sitting position and stripped the jacket then the shirt from his back. Lucifer held himself unresisting as a ragdoll, as somebody else wrenched off his shoes, causing a faint twinge as he deliberately sprained Lucifer’s ankle. Then he tugged off Lucifer’s trousers.

Lucifer only had three of the guys’ attention now—the others were examining the watch—but they seemed to be enjoying the game and had noticed how irresistible Lucifer’s butt was. They’d got Lucifer naked, save his briefs and socks, and jostled him between them. After a few more kicks to his stomach and back, one of them grabbed Lucifer by his hair and dragged him up onto his knees. Lucifer, who’d bitten his own tongue to make damn sure he would actually get cut, dribbled some blood and wheezed piteously, which wasn’t fake. One of his ribs—pesky things!—had dislodged into a lung, and it was taking it’s sweet time popping back into place.

“Shame not to take a piece of that butt before we cut up his pretty face.”

“I’d _love_ to see you try.” Lucifer grinned, pearly teeth glinting and bloody, which earned him a sharp right-hook to his jaw and a boot heel jammed into his hip. “Ow!”

“What kind of sick twisted fucker are you?”

_The very worst kind. But he’ll have to show himself now… won’t he? Or maybe... maybe he’ll just hate me all the more and watch me burn. Again._

Lucifer’s sudden onslaught of self-loathing—and the belated realization that what he was encouraging these men to do was a despicable mockery of real crimes, the lowest of the low—hurt far more than having his battered body dashed to the concrete for the umpteenth time. A pair of meaty hands gripped his flanks, manipulating his hips back and his butt into a position of easy access. He felt fingertips at the waistband of his briefs…

… and then angel wings whirred, celestial light flashed. Lucifer collapsed, pressing his face into the dirty ground, too ashamed to watch, as Amenadiel unleashed his full power upon the helpless if thoroughly deserving gang.

In thirty seconds, it was over. Lucifer, his healing body wracked with cramps, rolled himself onto his back and pried his eyes open. Moaning, injured gang-members were strewn all around him, and a pair of legs waggled from the top of a dumpster. There was no sign of Amenadiel… or was there? He’d not heard his brother depart. Amenadiel had to be nearby, lurking in the shadows somewhere, watching over him.

Lucifer held his breath, because if he spoke now, he might regret it forever. He wanted to… Ugh, the very notion ought to sicken him. He yearned to beg Amenadiel’s forgiveness, because what he’d just done _was_ despicable, and he’d forced Amenadiel’s hand. Of course, Amenadiel would never let divine flesh be violated, if he had even the faintest suspicion that Lucifer was unwilling.

But had Amenadiel come to his rescue simply because Lucifer was divine, rather than because of _who_ he actually was? Or, perhaps it wasn’t that at all. Maybe it really was because Amenadiel could no longer stand to see these lowly humans touching what _he_ craved—Lucifer.

Lucifer seized on this final possibility, and cackled nastily. He’d come at least _close_ to success. If he could just get his brother to touch him again…

With this train of thought, the aim of his protracted game crystallised. It wasn’t enough just to get Amenadiel to admit that he fancied Lucifer. Lucifer would seduce Amenadiel, finish what they’d started in the penthouse, and poor blockheaded, sex-starved Amenadiel would be helpless to resist. Just picturing how they might go about doing the dirty brought a faint smile to Lucifer’s lips. It would be quite a giggle to give the prideful archangel a good rogering, or maybe Lucifer would ride him like a cowboy. Oh, how Amenadiel would groan and squirm beneath him…

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he whispered, his tone husky and mocking. With that, he blew it.

With the monotonously familiar _whoosh_ , Amenadiel departed, leaving Lucifer lying, still a bit broken, on the pavement. Despite his ebullient plans, that hollow empty feeling that always echoed Amenadiel’s visits returned. As Lucifer pushed himself shakily to his hands and knees, he shocked himself by retching.

Snarling, he wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. So, he was a sick, twisted fucker. What was new? He was the devil! And as Dad was his witness, he refused to let his brother win _his_ sick and twisted game.

Round four would be _his_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer takes even more drastic action to lure Amenadiel... and it all goes a bit awry. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much pure, self-indulgent hurt/comfort and angst. Final chapter is all written, edited and ready to go, and I should get a chance to proof and get it up by the end of the week. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy :)

Maze hooked her hands on her PVC-clad hips and regarded Lucifer with a jaded incredulity. "So you want me to stab you with a hell-forged blade? So you can prove your brother is a creepy stalker with a _crush_ on you?"

"Yes! It's a brilliant idea.” Lucifer paced to-and-fro across the penthouse, whisky in one hand, the fingers of the other raking through his hair. He was edgy, desperate; fundamentally hacked off that Amenadiel could _get_ to him this much. “We have a blazing row about... oh, I don't know. Anything will do. Maybe I’ve snapped your favourite sex swing. Or you're mad because I refuse to take you home to hell ever again, or something like that."

"That would piss me off." Her expression darkened, and she drifted a hand toward the hilt of one the many blades that she concealed in her skin-tight garb. "That's not for real, right? I mean, you're not telling me I'm stuck here with all these pathetic, shuffling wrecks and their puny mortal bodies. The temptation to lacerate all that vulnerable soft flesh is already driving me insane."

“Probably not.” Lucifer shrugged, not wishing to give the matter much consideration, then placed his empty glass down on the bar. “But anyway, you can let off steam by lacerating my rock-hard and not-so-vulnerable flesh.”

Maze slid toward him and whipped out a knife. Just as swiftly, Lucifer grabbed her wrist, noting the blade wasn’t hell-forged. Still, it was replete with a serrated edge and a nasty hook so she was clearly well up for this.

“Hold your horses, Maze. My celestial stalker doesn’t seem to be around right now. I’ll let you know when I want you to go all stabby stabby, and please—use a _proper_ weapon. I want it to look nasty, as if you're really trying to kill me, just not really nasty. You can use your torturer's skill to make sure that you avoid the vitals, right?"

"Right." Her tone was emphatically non-committal, her eyes narrowed to devious slits. Lucifer grinned, satisfied his partner was on board. She was trustworthy. Sort of. Well, for a demon.

Less than a day later, Lucifer sent a prayer Amenadiel’s way, asking generally after his brother’s health—and, specifically, whether Amenadiel had had a good wank while watching Lucifer in the shower lately. Confident he’d got Amenadiel’s attention, Lucifer summoned Maze to his penthouse and it all kicked off.

Maze, screaming her head off like a true demonic pro, had just landed him with a series of shattering direct hits to the skull with glass tumblers— _go, Maze! You can dent me, just don’t scratch the piano_ —when she pulled out a small curving blade and went for it. She grabbed him by the lapel and plunged the knife with surgical precision—bullseye into the spot she’d informed him would “bleed something satisfying, but not hit anything too squishy or essential.”

Most surgeons, however, didn't have to deal with their fully conscious patients jumping an inch in the air at the sound of wings—as Lucifer did, just as Maze went in for the not-quite-kill. As Maze’s knife struck upward into the squishy places she’d aimed to avoid, she effortlessly kept up her façade, save the faintest flash of alarm. As Lucifer’s knees buckled and he crumpled to the polished floor, she spat on him, then melted into the shadows, before Amenadiel even made it to Lucifer's side. And Amenadiel was nearly there quick enough to catch him.

Amenadiel yelled, "Stop demon," but he didn’t make chase. One hundred percent of his attention was now on Lucifer. Unfortunately, despite this attention being exactly what Lucifer had wished to procure, he proved in no condition to embark on a smooth seduction. Thanks to his own stupid jumpiness, he was busy being reminded of the kind of pain that was no fun at all.

The blood soaking his shirt and pooling beneath him ran freely from a gash somewhere in the vicinity of his spleen, kidneys, lower lung... Ugh, he wasn’t sure. He just wanted it all to stop. When Amenadiel scooped Lucifer up and cradled him against his chest, Lucifer whimpered.

“Oh, Luci, it’s alright. It’ll be okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Amenadiel rocked him gently, leaving Lucifer torn between wanting to yell with anger or sob with… well, rage also. Neither proved an option. He was too busy choking on the blood that disgorged up from his guts and filled his mouth. He managed a gargled moan when Amenadiel hugged him closer, his hold about Lucifer growing agonizingly tight. He wished the idiot would keep still and stop joggling him as if somehow joggling would help, because each bloomin’ joggle was like a fresh stab with Maze’s blade.

Amenadiel’s soothing babbling turned toward prayer. “Father… not now, please, there’s so much I can still do for him, if you let me. Please let there be… hope for him. Hope for… us.”

_Us?_

Lucifer registered the notion, though he was too far gone to process much meaning. Celestial light flared, and the pain didn’t go, but it faded significantly. Lucifer felt nauseous and sticky with gore, and suddenly very cold, wracked with violent shivers… and also, oddly happy. His brain remained too fuzzed with trauma for him to beat himself up about the fact that Amenadiel was cuddling him, making him feel better, and it was really rather nice.

After patiently holding Lucifer for an indefinite period of time, Amenadiel kissed his forehead before slipping an arm under his knees and another under his back, then lifting him up like a child. Lucifer laughed weakly, blood bubbling on his lips, because there was no denying that he _really hated this_. Yet he’d put himself in a position where he had no choice but to go with it, and he simply wasn’t familiar with the emotion that overwhelmed him. Whatever it was, Lucifer clung to it as everything faded to black.

When Lucifer came to, he was lying on his bed, a blanket tucked tight around him, although he still couldn't stop shivering. The fast-healing gash in his gut no longer hurt as such, but it was far from comfortable, as if a shard of ice has been inserted between two of his ribs. The discomfort vied for his attention with the feel of… somebody else’s hand clasping his. On flickering his eyes open, he finally allowed himself to enjoy his victory, or at least, a significant step toward it.

Amenadiel was perched on the bed beside him, all doe-eyed concern, furrowed brow and thinned, regretful lips.

"Luci, how do you feel?"

"Nauseous," murmured Lucifer, "and angry.” His voice cracked; he cleared his throat, then considered his words for a moment. “My most loyal minion just stabbed me and left me at the mercy of my latest creepy obsessed stalker. Don’t flatter yourself to think you’re my first obsessed fan, I’ve had pl—”

Lucifer broke off into another cough. Way too much blood still sloshed about in his throat, although, as he levered himself up onto an elbow to aid in getting the gunk out, he noted that Amenadiel had removed his ruined clothes and dressed him in a pair of silk pyjamas. Something tight-ish—a bandage Lucifer presumed—had been wrapped about his wound. Amenadiel was currently using a handkerchief to wipe the fresh blood from Lucifer’s chin. Lucifer allowed Amenadiel to tend to him, but glared, his pride returning fast.

“There are rules against your sort of behaviour in this human state,” said Lucifer wheezily, flopping back against the pillow. “I could have you arrested; get some sort of restraining order."

Amenadiel tucked away the soiled hanky and sighed down at him. “You know why I have to watch you. You are even less to be trusted to keep divinity safe than I feared. And you cut off your wings! How could you do that?” Lucifer didn’t rise to the bait; no way was he wasting his precious breath on _that_ topic right now. “I saw your scars, and it made me sad. You don't seem to be able to control yourself."

"Last time I looked—or should I say felt—you were the one having difficulty controlling yourself." Lucifer smirked wearily and coughed again, suddenly annoyed he’d been brought so low, so completely at Amenadiel’s mercy, and it had all been Amenadiel’s fault for making him jump at the crucial moment. Amusement turned to sullen anger as he considered how infuriating it was that Amenadiel made him jumpy at all.

"You kissed me,” Amenadiel was saying, “it was deplorable."

“Parts of you most definitely disagreed.” Lucifer dragged his arm free from the blanket, grabbed his brother’s thigh and squeezed hard. "Did the rod of righteousness stand proud again when you stripped me tonight? Oh yes, I… I’m sure you enjoyed h-handling me nak—”

A fresh half-pint of blood spewed up from Lucifer’s healing innards, caused his snide speech to fall flat. Amenadiel, who had conjured an impeccable expression of disgust, reverted instantly to protective big brother mode. He dragged Lucifer up into his arms, manhandled him about, then whacked him on the back with a celestial force that had Lucifer hacking up what felt like several lung’s worth more of blood.

Lucifer ended up with a throat too raw to protest, a trembling, boneless heap in Amenadiel’s arms. He clung pathetically to Amenadiel’s robe, letting Amenadiel stroke and sooth him, until he floated on an ocean of… oh, Dad! Shit! Yes, despite his wrecked state, this _was_ some form of torturous contentment, an almost unbearable feeling of being _cherished_ …

He drifted off again. When he next became aware of himself, he was wrapped up in cosy, warm blankets, but disappointingly alone. A dull, gnawing ache filled his abdomen, which wasn’t surprising. As he’d been lately reminded, even divine flesh took a while to recover from the bite of a hell-forged blade. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, although his mouth and throat felt like they’d been coated by a gritty layer of copper.

Lucifer pushed himself up to take a sip from a glass that’d been left by the bed—water rather than bourbon tragically, but it washed away most of the disgusting taste. The effort drained him, and he flopped back against the pillows, one arm flung across his face to blot out the too-bright light of morning.

Amenadiel had deserted him! After everything that had passed the previous night, Amenadiel hadn’t even hung around until morning to check he was okay. Or, more pertinently, to allow Lucifer to lure him into sin, and—

As the power shower in his en-suite bathroom whirred into life, Lucifer sat up so abruptly he jarred his wound. He hissed with pain, then steeled himself. He’d ordered Maze not to show herself for at least forty-eight hours, and despite his lax security, he was pretty sure none of his lovers would be as blatant as to waltz into the facilities uninvited, so it had to be… Amenadiel.

Catching his breath as his discomfort subsided, Lucifer wrestled with a brief stab of panic. He knew what he wanted to do next, and he ought to be revelling in its sheer wrongness. He was going to seduce his brother. The only issue with that, from Lucifer’s perspective, was how deeply he desired it to go _well_.

He rolled his eyes, scoffing at his stupid anxiety, doubtless some shadow of weakness in the aftermath of being stabbed. There was no way this was going to end well, but he was the devil, and he didn’t bloody well care.

Time for vengeance. Time to fuck his brother to hell… literally, if at all possible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finally gets what he believes he wants.

Amenadiel emerged from the bathroom, his body glistening with damp and naked save the small towel tied about his waist. Lucifer, not unappreciative of the sight, was ready. He’d stripped bare too, save the bandage and an artfully arranged wisp of silk sheeting across his loins. Reclining against a swathe of plush pillows, he struck his best, cheap and slightly-taking-the-piss, “fuck me” pose, with heavy-lidded eyes and one arm snaking sexily above his head.

Amenadiel took one glance and visibly baulked. He sat down on the bed, with his broad back to Lucifer, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. “I knew it was a mistake,” he said, “staying to check you were okay. You really are disgusting, Luci.”

“Disgusting” was a tad strong for even Lucifer to stomach. He couldn’t keep the crack of emotion from his voice. “Deplorable, despicable… and now disgusting. Is there any good you think of me, brother?”

“I thought much of you once,” murmured Amenadiel, “long, long ago.”

“I’m not talking about then,” said Lucifer, smoothly refusing his despair, because he didn’t care what his hypocritical brother thought of him. He really didn’t. “I’m talking about now. Is there anything good you can say about me? Come on—look at me! Am I really such a repulsive sight?”

Amenadiel shifted sideways on the bed, so that his bare thigh grazed Lucifer’s and their eyes finally met. Had he not already been lying down, the intensity in Amenadiel’s eyes might have floored Lucifer. A misty-eyed sorrow vied with something rawer, immediate… needy.

Ah, Lucifer’s good friend lust. He understood it well and was an expert in exploiting it, although Amenadiel was no ordinary lover to seduce. Lucifer could’ve tried to jump Amenadiel’s bones and ride him like a cowboy, as Lucifer had gleefully imagined, but he realized now that would never work. Amenadiel was his big brother, and especially given his slightly weakened state, he was going to have to rock with that dynamic between them. Admitting it made him feel dirty—and not in a good way—but exploiting Amenadiel’s protective side had been his strongest tactic all along.

Swallowing his pride, Lucifer chewed his lower lip. He stretched his eyes wide and shrank back into the pillows. “Have you _nothing_ good to say?” he repeated, his voice small.

Amenadiel buckled. “You’re… you’re very beautiful.”

“I was disgusting a minute ago. Please, make your mind up.” Lucifer, emboldened, pushed himself up onto an elbow, exaggerated a wince of pain, then slid his palm farther up Amenadiel’s thigh. Amenadiel squirmed. “Tell me brother, do you desire me?”

Amenadiel laughed nervously, tensing beneath Lucifer’s touch. “You know that nonsense doesn’t work on me.”

“It doesn’t have to,” breathed Lucifer, tracing Amenadiel’s very hard length beneath the towel. “Your body speaks for you, brother. So please, be honest with me. Why can’t you keep away from me? _What_ exactly do you desire of me?”

Amenadiel seized Lucifer’s hand and lifted it off. His flash of anger was brief, replaced by an anguish that momentarily evoked Lucifer’s pity. Despite Amenadiel’s bone-crushing grasp about his wrist, Lucifer faced a desperate animal, a wounded, ravenous beast, who wasn’t going down without a fight.

Or maybe he was.

Amenadiel released Lucifer’s arm, leaned forward, took his face in his hands, and kissed him.

The kiss was tentative, startling Lucifer. He’d anticipated roughness, and had been prepared to be rough in return. Instead, he shut his eyes and parted his lips, yielding to the gentle, exploratory intrusion of Amenadiel’s tongue.

Amenadiel moaned, a guttural rumble of despair, though his actions grew more predatory as some bestial instinct took control. The kiss grew wet and messy, momentum propelling Amenadiel forward, pressing Lucifer into the pillows again. When Amenadiel finally broke away, they were both breathless, panting.

“I don’t… I can’t… I don’t want to feel this way.” The flames of lust in Amenadiel’s dark eyes defied his pitiable words, as did the hungry fashion in which he pushed his body into Lucifer’s. “What have you done to me?”

“I think the question is,” purred Lucifer, “what are you about to do to me?”

Amenadiel’s only answer was another kiss, this time growing feral, teeth skimming against sensitive flesh. Lucifer kissed back hard, giving as good as he got, though Amenadiel’s handling of his body remained gentle, mindful that he was still healing. Whey they next broke for air, they grappled a moment, nigh playful, Lucifer nipping at Amenadiel’s lower lip, then grasping and squeezing at his brother’s sculpted buttocks. After ripping away the towel between them, he grinded his erection up against Amenadiel’s, prompting Amenadiel to wrestle back the upper hand. Amenadiel grabbed him, rolled him over and grasped his hips, easing Lucifer up onto his hands and knees. Lucifer, grinning now, braced himself to be entered doggy style.

Instead, Amenadiel groaned. “Luci… your wings. I still can’t believe—”

Bugger. Why did he have to fixate on that again? Amenadiel traced the scars, so gently and reverently Lucifer almost hollered with frustration. He was hard and horny, and he couldn’t endure Amenadiel’s compassion any more than he could his lectures. Not now. That wasn’t what he’d come on this dangerous journey for. Sex was so much easier to handle.

“I can’t do this,” murmured Amenadiel.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, furious tears pricking in his eyes. To have come so close, and still not have triumphed was worse than torture.

“I can’t do this looking at your scars.”

Lucifer was all but ready to throttle his brother, when Amenadiel carefully flipped him back over.

“I need to look into your eyes,” said Amenadiel, even as Lucifer, acting on instinct more than anything, hitched his legs about his brother’s waist. Amenadiel loomed over him, still pained-looking but also determined. It sent a bolt of thrill down Lucifer’s spine—as did the feel of his brother’s cock, huge and hard, pressing at his entrance.

Lucifer was still winning…

All of his spinning thoughts slammed to a halt as, lubricated solely by angelic juices, Amenadiel pushed inside him. Lucifer’s body stretched and gave, a red-hot pleasure that verged upon the most blissful pain. Briefly, they both froze. Lucifer felt as shocked as Amenadiel appeared, his brow furrowed with an intense concentration.

“Alright?” asked Amenadiel.

Lucifer’s mind had gone blank. His brother was _big_. All he could was gasp and nod.

Amenadiel began to move, slowly and sensuously, and the sublime friction nearly undid Lucifer. He hugged all his limbs tight about his brother and bucked his hips, urging on the impalement. Amenadiel complied, penetrating Lucifer to the hilt. Never once did Amenadiel take his gaze from Lucifer, as if continually asking for permission, for approval; and never had Lucifer been taken so gently and sweetly. To be honest, it wasn’t Lucifer’s style. Amenadiel was setting the pace, something Lucifer never intended nor expected. Flaming spasms rushed through Lucifer, every time Amenadiel struck deep, and the affectionate gleam in Amenadiel’s eyes?

Now _that_ was bewildering. This union seemed so much more than the carnal couplings Lucifer had known before. It was something completely new… and the first significant surprise for Lucifer in what would turn out to be a memorable morning.

Sweat glistened and trickled over Amenadiel’s buff torso, which shimmered in perpetual motion. But it was his adoring gaze that pierced Lucifer to the core, that made him feel… loved?

“I missed you,” cried Amenadiel. “I missed you so much.”

“I think,” gasped Lucifer, “I’d have missed you more if we’d done this sort of thing earlier.”

Despite the humour in his words, Lucifer couldn’t stand Amenadiel’s tenderness, let alone process it. He shattered inside, screwed his eyes tight, and grasped for his own cock, throbbing and needy and sandwiched between their two bodies. He fisted himself in time with Amenadiel’s thrusts, which grew harsher and harder, painful and much more bearable all at once. His brother fucked him so thoroughly his entire sense of self, worth, and being crumbled, and the honeyed strokes against his prostate became simply too much.

Lucifer came, sharp and sudden, heat flooding his hand and belly; his brother roared toward the heavens and climaxed inside of him with three final, violent ruts. Amenadiel collapsed down on top of Lucifer, a smothering blanket of quivering flesh soaked with divine perspiration, his softening cock still buried deep inside Lucifer.

They lay there for a short while, panting, sticky and, for Lucifer at least, floating on a post-coital high and that odd sensation of being cherished, which he’d experienced last night in his brother’s arms. He still refused to give any real credence to it, but he enjoyed it all the same.

Then there was the triumph, of course.

Amenadiel lay sated atop him, having fucked him to paradise and back. Yup, the archangel had truly stooped to Lucifer’s level now, and appeared, at least currently, to have resigned himself to what had happened. Amenadiel rolled off and out of Lucifer then pulled Lucifer into his arms, tight against him. Lucifer, smiling into his brother’s shoulder, reciprocating the embrace, wondering at how naturally their bodies seemed to meld together. He might have fallen asleep again there, happy and contented…

But Lucifer still knew this couldn’t end well. Little by little, a sense of foreboding crept though him. After a few minutes, Amenadiel’s body grew tense and rigid and Lucifer realized that his brother, lusts now satisfied, was cranking his one-dimensional brain back into action. Lucifer had already braced for the worst, when Amenadiel shoved him away with a cry of disgust then jumped up.

Lucifer pulled a face. _Here we go._

Amenadiel turned his back on Lucifer, pressed his hands together and began to pray. “Father, father, please forgive me. I knew not what I did! He tempted me... He seduced me! His beauty is just part of his evil. I am not the first soldier of strength to fall foul of him! Please, forgive me. Forgive me!"

Lucifer smirked joylessly at Amenadiel’s butt. “You’ve changed your tune. Yesterday you asked Dad if there was any hope for _us_.”

Amenadiel rounded on Lucifer. “Yes, us! Our brotherhood, which you cast aside so long ago. I prayed that you wouldn’t destroy it completely, as you seemed so determined to do. Oh, I know what game you’ve been playing these last few weeks. I bet you even set up that scene yesterday with your demon. Oh, I should’ve known—"

Lucifer sneered wearily, tuning out of Amenadiel’s rant. Amenadiel’s words were hardly unexpected, but Lucifer despised how much they hurt him. It would have been okay… it would have been fine… if what Amenadiel had just done to him hadn’t felt quite so much like lovemaking. Or, at least, like Lucifer imagined lovemaking to be. Had anybody ever made _love_ with Lucifer before? Maybe Eve?

It seemed Amenadiel’s lovemaking was turning out a lie, if the hatred now twisting his features held any truth in it. “You’re an abomination,” Amenadiel was yelling. “How could you make me despoil myself? This is all your fault!”

Lucifer finally sat up, pulling a sheet about himself and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Oh yes, the usual get out clause. Blame the devil. "My fault how exactly?” Lucifer arched a brow at his still stark-naked brother. “I didn’t exactly pin you down.”

Amenadiel retrieved his towel, swiftly securing it about his waist. “You seduced me. You used your devilish wiles.”

Amenadiel’s voice wavered uncertainly, his inner struggle palpable. Lucifer sighed, raking his hair as he rose to his feet to go toe-to-toe with his brother. He wasn’t in mood to be spoken down to. “You were the first to remind me that my devil powers don't work on you. My devilish good looks, on the other hand...”

Then the second real surprise of the morning hit Lucifer. Literally. Although it really shouldn’t have been any kind of shock.

Amenadiel punched Lucifer hard enough to split his lip and sending him sprawling back onto the bed. The crack of pain was brief and superficial; the sorrow that crushed his heart was less familiar. Lucifer reeled from it, even as he shook the dizziness from his head and spat out the blood. "That's right,” he snarled, “blame me for your fall, like the whole of humanity. You’re going to have to join the ruddy queue!”

Lucifer pushed himself up, refusing to look at Amenadiel, heading for the bathroom, the closet, anywhere to get away and find some more clothes. Amenadiel, however, blocked his path, shoulders squared.

"Come on!" Amenadiel jutted out his chin and pointed to it. "Your turn to take a swing. I'll give you a free shot for starters."

Lucifer laughed softly, wiping his sore lip. "No, brother. I'm not going to stoop down to _your_ level."

Amenadiel shoved him so hard his feet flew from under him and he tumbled backward again. The third and final surprise of the morning came when—either through stopping time or moving with preternatural speed—Amenadiel caught him before his head cracked against the metal bedstead that was surely in the trajectory of his fall. Lucifer, incredulous, gaped at Amenadiel as he lifted him back onto the bed and lay him against the pillows. During countless millennia in hell, Lucifer had never seen such a passion of confusion, torment or shame on any poor bugger’s face.

"I-I'm sorry," whispered Amenadiel, suddenly unable to even look at Lucifer. "I have to go."

He leaned forward, brushed his lips against Lucifer’s forehead in the ghost of a kiss, and then his wings unfurled and he was gone.

Lucifer’s initial response was to hug the pillow tight to his chest; he felt sick and tired and used and… livid. After yelling loudly and wordlessly, he punched a hole in the wall, marched into his en-suite and kicked a panel of the corner-bath to splinters. Then, having wrapped himself in a bathrobe, he wandered over to his bar to pour himself a very large whisky and plan his day, which would involve a lot of drugs and sex.

He didn't see Amenadiel again for a very long time. But that feeling of emptiness and hurt? That hung around like a persistent stalker. The only weapon Lucifer could counter it with was fury. On the rare occasions Lucifer found himself in bed alone, in the darkest hours of the night, he’d think of his brother—and those awful moments of tenderness—and allow his fury to fester.

_How dare he blame me for that? How dare he? He does… he did… maybe once… he wanted me._

“Or maybe,” came a darker whisper from Lucifer’s soul, “he blames you because it was your fault. It’s always your fault. You tricked yourself into thinking he cared, you fool. You stupid, evil fool. He fancied you only because you’re a cheap slut, an easy lay, and he was too stupid to resist. How else did you expect this to end?”

Fortunately, most of the time, Lucifer looked on the bright side. After all, Amenadiel had left him alone to enjoy his life on earth.

At least, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading my story :)
> 
> Sorry that it all ended a little bit downbeat! Working with a pre-Chloe Lucifer and a meaner, pre-season 1 Amenadiel, this was the only way things panned out in my head. I’m not sure I can leave them all sad, though, so hopefully I’ll figure out a follow up, where Lucifer can work things out with the much nicer Amenadiel of later seasons. We’ll see ;)


End file.
